


The Banshee's Song

by SmexyWatermelon



Series: Apex Predator [1]
Category: Fables (Willingham) - All Media Types, The Wolf Among Us
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Loss of Identity, Reader Is A Banshee, Slow Burn, Strangers to Friends, Temporary Amnesia, like in a very distant chapter tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-28 11:52:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10099412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmexyWatermelon/pseuds/SmexyWatermelon
Summary: After an abrupt awakening on the scene of a crime, without any memory regarding who you are or how you ended up there, you are brought to the only person willing to solve the case: as Bigby helps you unravel this mistery, he realizes you and him had already met, back in the Homelands.On two different sides back then, sharing the nickname of 'monster' nowadays.





	1. Wolf in Sheep Clothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I'm sorry but this is gonna be a super slow beginning e.e trust me, I'm hating this as much as you are

_Your eyes slowly crack open, a huge headache painfully pulsing at the sides of your temples as you try and fail to sit up, coughing as you laid sprawled on the hard surface of the floor. You take in a deep breath, skimming the wooden ceiling, trying to recall something, anything, but your memories are just a blur._

_“What’s going on there?” a voice calls from the outside of the door, and you can hear the handle of the door being pulled from the outside, clicking slightly without moving since it was still locked._

_Your abdomen painfully protests as you pin your elbows on the ground, levering yourself in a sitting position, and just then your nose seems to catch on the horrible stench of blood in which the room was seemingly flooded._

_Looking down, laying a few inches from your pale feet, you can see the corpse of what must have once been a young man, torn to pieces and splattered everywhere on the floor. Your eyes look mesmerized at it, finding yourself seemingly unable to shift your gaze anywhere else in the room.  
_

_“Help!“ You manage to whine, apparently loud enough to be heard by whoever was outside, who started banging harder on the door until it finally gave in, splinters sent flying inside the room._  
_You slowly dug your heels on the ground to get as far away from the body as possible._  
_“What happened?!” you stare at the newcomer, touch your forehead, blood dripping down your temple. “I… I don’t know.”_

\-----  
  
Beast had been walking up and down the narrow office for quite a long while, the wooden boards creaking underneath his weight anytime he stomped heavier than usual on them.

“Who are we waiting for exactly?” you asked, more to make conversation than to actually know: trying to recall your identity was becoming a maddening task since you realized you had no clue of where to start.  
“The sheriff. He’s… an interesting fellow. I’m sure you’ll like him.” He said with a forced smile on his lips before getting back to walking up and down: simply looking at him was starting to make you feel anxious.  
You slightly tilted your head and worryingly looked at Beast until he stopped walking to return the gaze. “What’s wrong?” he asked, as if it wasn't obvious enough.  
“Why are you lying to me?”  
  
It was clear he was tense. You couldn’t help but wonder how this sheriff would have been like.  
Just when he was about to reply, you both saw a shadow approaching the outside of the door: you returned the glance of the newcomer, whom as soon as he had entered the room had been staring at you, still sitting in the chair.  
His eyes drifted to the side, meeting Beast's ones “What is it?”

“Bigby, thank god!” he exclaimed relieved, but the wolf's gaze soon went back upon you. “Who is she?"  
Silence settled in the room as you studied each other for a long moment: he looked like he hadn't been sleeping for days; slim frame, broad shoulders, eyes that could have easily pinned someone to a wall with a simple stare.

“She doesn’t remember.” Beast simply replied.  
The sheriff took in a deep breath. “And so you thought sneaking her in my office would have helped?”

“I’m not a stupid! Just look at her: she is clearly a fable.” You didn’t know what exactly Beast was talking about, but you noticed the other man taking two big steps and closing the gap between the two of you: you held your breath and slightly pressed yourself against the chair as he grabbed the armrests on both your sides and leant in on the side of your head, taking a deep breath near your neck.  
“Well, she does smell like one of us.” He mumbled softly beside your ear.

He slightly backed away, but didn’t stand up nor stopped looking at you. “Is it true? You don’t remember anything?” you blinked slowly, staring at his features: it was not an unknown face, but you couldn’t associate it with any name.  
As you kept looking cluelessly at him, his expression shifted from curious to something resembling surprise. "You really don't know who I am?" You shook your head lightly, seeing the sheriff taking the news as a pleasant discovery.

Bigby slowly took a step back, crossing his arms on his chest, his eyes skimming your hooded figure up and down.  
“What do you want me to do?” he murmured to Beast at his side.  
"Maybe... take care of her, somehow?”  
“And why don’t you ask Snow? I’m not good at handling…” he took a sideways glance towards you, speaking with an unconvinced tone. “…kids.”  
“Well…” Beast scratched the back of his neck awkwardly “I was working when I found her…”  
Bigby simply raised an eyebrow “And?”  
“Beauty doesn’t know about my other job. I don’t want her to find out.”  
He pinched the bridge of his nose for a second. “And so you don’t want things to be official.” He asked annoyedly as Beast nodded slightly, almost shyly.  
“You’re lucky Snow is away now. We might just be able to find out what had happened without her knowing.”

Before Bigby could move, Beast spoke again, his tone a bit shackier than before. “The place I found her at… there was a corpse. Seemed like he had been slaughtered some days ago...”  
Bigby turned towards him, raising an eyebrow. “One of us?”  
“Not sure. There were just pieces of _someone_ sprawled on the floor.” Beast replied as best he could, shrugging.  
The sheriff scratched his chin in thought, thinking on what to do, a strange glint shining on his irises as he looked at you.  
“Go back there, make sure no one touches anything.”  
“I need to go back to work!” the bigger man snapped.  
“You have already skipped half a day, I doubt losing a couple more hours would change anything right now.” Beast was about to reply, but he decided to just deeply sigh and do it his way.  
“…fine.”  
“I’ll reach you as soon as I can. I need to speak with Bufkin first. You-” he nudged at your direction with his chin “-come with me.”

You looked at him for a moment before standing up from the chair and walking beside him, feeling his hand through your thick cloak setting on the back of your neck, almost as if fearing you could bolt somewhere at the first corner. Your head was still faintly aching, and you knew a bruise was probably forming on the side of your forehead.  
“I’ll wait you there.” Beast murmured as Bigby pushed you out of the door and simply grouched in response.

You walked around a couple of hallways, his hand always resting at the base of your neck, sending weird chills down your spine. "So, why did you kill that man?" You heard his rough voice whispering just above a murmur. You bit your lower lip, slightly narrowing your eyes at his accusation. "I didn't."  
"And how do you know?" You stopped, almost walking by his side, glaring at him. "I may not know who I am, sheriff. But I'm no killer." He looked at you for a moment before resuming walking, disregarding you completely. "You don't believe me?" you said, catching up with him.  
"Let's say I do, for now." He walked towards a door at the end of the aisle where many people were waiting, leaning against the wall.  
You heard many of them scoff and grumble as you passed in front of them, but Bigby didn’t seem to take notice and so did you.  
You were wearing a dark tattered robe with a hood and walked barefoot: it was no wonder you caught more than a couple of glances as Bigby pushed you onward.

“Who are these people?” you murmured when the two of you stopped in front of the door. “Other fables. Nothing you should be worrying about.”  
He knocked quickly on the door and pocked his head inside. “Crane?”  
Hearing no answer, he fully opened the door. “Come.”  
He stepped aside and let you in first, as you entered what looked like a gargantuan, almost immaterial library. “This place is huge…” you had seen the building from the outside: it looked nothing but this.  
“Just… regular magic. You get used to it.” He replied, slightly shrugging his shoulders and stepping inside of the room, his cynicism completely out of place as you saw a flying vessel soaring in the distance.  
“Bufkin!” he yelled, his voice echoing through the wide hall as you kept looking up at the intricately detailed structures and columns, twirling around on yourself to have a better look at your surroundings.

Suddenly, a flapping sound was heard coming from the distance, and you looked up, shielding your eyes from the light with your hands, trying to detect the source of the noise: you saw something resembling a little man gliding around the bookshelves with odd maneuvers, curving the path of its flight at strange angles until it landed with a hard thud on the table next to Bigby.  
You approached the figure, who was painfully standing back up on his two feet: just then you realized it was no man, but a green winged monkey with pitch black eyes.

Bigby's nose crinkled as he sniffed at the air “Damn, are you drunk again? It’s not even 11.”  
“N-n-no, Sheriff Wolf!” he cheerily replied, straightening his back to look more composed. His gaze then set on you. “Oh, hi! We have visitors today!”

“Bufkin, at your service!” he said extending a hand towards you.  
“Hi. I am… me.” You simply replied while shaking his paw, caught off guard.  
“Me! What a nice name-“ “She doesn’t remember, you drunkard.” You heard the sheriff mumbling at your side and the corners of your mouth turned upwards in a little smile as you looked to the side and then back to Bufkin.  
The monkey hiccupped again and bowed slightly in apology.

“Bring us the main book of Fables.” The monkey nodded and leapt in the air, correcting his trajectory every time he started curving it too much, disappearing behind some other bookshelves.  
“Okay. You have a drunk winged monkey.” You would have questioned the fact he was comparing you to a tale as well, hadn't you just seen a _green monkey_ saluting you and _flying_ away: you turned around to face Bigby “What now?”  
“We try to find out who you are. Then I run back to Beast before he has a panic attack.”  
Bufkin came back shortly after and dropped the heavy book in front of the two of you, raising a cloud of dust in the process.

He opened it for you and you took a peek inside, turning the first pages to admire the hand-crafted miniatures.  
Bigby took a step closer at your side without you noticing.  
“If we’re lucky, you’re someone famous and we’ll know who you are soon enough.”  
As he said that, his hand reached for your hood but you snapped back out of reflex, staring wide eyed at Bigby as he drew back his hand, fear slowly subsiding.  
“Sorry. It’s been a crazy morning.” You murmured as you softly pulled your hood back, showing your face for the first time to the sheriff: he stared at your features for a while, his gaze not getting harder nor softer.  
Your skin was not marred by any scar or tattoo, nothing immediately recognizable. That would have made things more difficult.

He started turning the pages to see if there was anyone looking like you. “Does it remind you of anyone?” he said, glancing sideways at Bufkin. The monkey took his head between his paws, scratching his ears in thought. “…no.” he murmured with an apologetic tone.  
You sighed a bit and closed your eyes, feeling like you were getting nowhere.

“Can you untie your hair?”  
You complied, removing the pin keeping your hairstyle together from the back of your head, your locks flopping down your shoulders with a soft swish, stopping - to your own surprise - at your knee’s height.  
He looked at them, and murmured towards Bufkin “Start with Rapunzel and look for any other kid princesses fables.” The winged monkey fiddled with his hands, looking as if he was trying to tell something to the man. “I-it would take a while t-t-to-“ “Yes Bufkin, I know there are _a lot_ of princesses.” He growled undertone, dragging his palm over his face. “Just get on with it, let me know if you find something resembling her.”  
Bufkin suppressed a sigh and gave you a sad look, leaping again in the air and disappearing in the maze of shelves.

There was a moment of silence between you and the sheriff before you spoke again.  
“Why are you helping me, really?”  
“Not your business, kid.” He said while closing the book, giving his back to you.  
“I guess it is, since it regards me directly.” You insisted, walking closer to him: his eyes minaciously settled on you.  
“You’re in no position to make demands.”  
“And you’re in no position to refuse help.” Your eyes quickly skimmed him up and down. “You don’t look like a charitable man. I don’t know why you’re helping me, but you’re a fool if you think I haven’t noticed how the others look at you. And I know I do know you, even if I don’t know how.”  
He momentarily looked to the side, exhaling deeply.  
“It’s clear I’m mainly just bothering you. Exchange notes with me- we’ll get on quicker!”  
“Kid-“ he growled, but was cut halfway when the door opened again.

“Finally decided to give up the detective career and found a kindergarten?” the bald man who had just entered yelled from the other side of the hall. “Oh shit.” Bigby murmured undertone, closing his eyes and slightly tilting his head upwards. “Why all today…?”

“What do you think this is, wolf? A fun park?” he said while getting near you, grabbing your wrist and painfully yanking it.  
Bigby growled and stepped between the two of you, the stranger swiftly letting go of your arm. “Not when you’re around, no.”  
“I want this kid out of here, now! This is a work place-“  
“Calm down, you’re still the oldest boy of the playground, no need to boss a little girl to establish dominance.” He said, putting himself between you and the newcomer as you started to move again, following him as he approached the door.  
“Why don’t you just run away with your tail between your legs as you’re used to?”  
“I needed to get out anyway, I didn’t need your ugly mug to remind me.”  
You quickened your pace to keep up with him, getting out of the room first “Oh, and Bluebeard-“

“Fuck you too.” He said, slamming the door shut behind him.  
You paced away from the crowd in front of the door, waiting for Bigby to reach you: he put a cigarette between his lips and lit it. “Charming.” You murmured, combing locks of hair together to tie them again. “So, we’re basically at the starting point.” You followed him down the aisle.  
“Maybe. At least we know you must be something special if there’s no tale about you Bufkin could recall right away.” He said, stopping in front of the elevator while you kept staring at him as you clicked the pin close behind your head. As you didn't stop gazing at him, he sighed in defeat. “Yes, we are at the starting point.” He tiredly admitted as the doors opened and the two of you got in.  
He pressed a button on the elevator control panel, and the doors closed again. The elevator was buzzing in motion, silence otherwise settling between the two of you.  
You were feeling extremely tired, albeit it had been just a few hours since you had... woken up (if someone could call that sleep...). Albeit fading, the pain from whatever had hit you on your forehead hadn't still faded, and was swiftly turning into a pulsing headache.  
  
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you so much trouble.” You murmur, not even looking at him.  
“Hey, trouble is my job. I would be broke weren’t for people like you.” He murmured, puffing on his cigarette.  
You frowned a little, not sure whether that was supposed to sound reassuring.

The doors opened again and you followed him down another corridor, skimming the many doors all built inches from one another, wondering how large a house could be in here.  
“You can stay at my apartment for the time being.” He said, while fiddling with keys and opening a door. “It’s not extremely welcoming, but-“  
“I will manage.” You reply, smiling a little and stepping through the threshold, your gaze skimming around the room: it was... shabby. To put it nicely. Smelling of stale air and days old smoke, not extremely clean, but... welcoming. In its own particular way.  
  
Seeing the glint in your eyes as they set on the notes that completely covered the only table, you hear Bigby calling you again “Don’t snoop around.”  
“I’m not promising anything.” You smiled back. “And… thanks, sheriff.”  
He simply gave you a nod of acknowledgment. “Stay here, until I find something.” He closed the door behind him as he got out of the room: you sighed and sat on the only armchair, cradling your legs closer to your chest and closing your eyes, wanting nothing more than a couple of hours of sleep.  
You started counting sheep, unbeknown of Bigby pressing his body against the other side of the door, head leaning back against it with eyes shut as he tried to understand why he liked your scent so much.


	2. Foretelling Dreams

_You kept screaming and screaming as people ran away, seemingly the only thing you could do to prevent the worst from happening._  
  
_You heard a howl in the distance, and spurred yourself on to make the villagers leave the town quicker._  
_As you watched kids and animals tripping in their own feet, men and women helping them up and running away, you spun around on yourself when you heard the noise of wood breaking: a giant yellow eye stared at you through the crack in the fortified wooden walls._  
_He disappeared for a moment, and then his whole body barged through the already crumbling wall, splinters of wood flying in every direction as he forced his way inside the town._

 _Before he could move you shrieked, flying towards him, your hair whipping the wind and your claws sinking through fur and skin, blood spurting on his mane._  
_Jaws snapped close inches from your body, almost catching your blood red cloak, and your four arms fell again on his muzzle, scratching his nose._

_He drew back and snarled, and as you shrieked one last time to draw his attention you glanced back at your sisters and the last villagers leaving the town before turning around and gliding through the air as fast as possible, quickly reaching the forest standing a few feet from the city walls._

_The wolf glanced for a moment at his fleeing meal before turning his attention to you and leaping in the air towards your direction, quickly catching up with you._  
_Blood thumped madly in your ears as you flew among trees and dodged trunks standing in your path, your claws scraping lightly against the wood as you nimbly swished through the forest, albeit the noise of his paws hitting the ground only kept getting closer and closer._

 _Suddenly, a lack of noise drew your attention, paws clashing against your back half a second later as you hit the ground with a hard thud, his giant foot keeping you in place._  
_You moaned in pain as he put more force into it, your nails digging in the ground as you tried to slip away from his grip, failing at it._

_You heard him sniffing closer to your back, his teeth lightly nibbling at your shoulder through your clothes. Suddenly, the weight was lifted from your body and you immediately dug your heels in the ground to get away from the wolf: as you stood up again and turned around you saw your surroundings disappearing in the night, the wolf’s yellow eyes staring at you as he backed and disappeared in the darkness._

_“Who-who are you?!” you blurted out, your voice trembling more than what you meant it to._  
_“He’s the shadow creeping in children’s rooms at night, he’s the jaws gnawing them in their sleep,” Whispers coming from the shadows said as you kept backing away from the spot where you had seen him disappear._  
_“He’s the unfortunate trickster of our cruel world.”_  
_Your lower back hit something, and glancing around you saw in the corner of your eye it was a table covered in books, but you didn’t focus on it, for you knew whatever was in the darkness would have probably killed you if it leapt at you again, cornered as you were in the shadows._

 _Steps approached, but they were much lighter than before._  
_This time, there was just one, single gruff voice speaking “The real question is: who are you?” A crimson light appeared in the darkness, lighting up a cigarette and illuminating for a split second hard features staring at you._

 _“S-sheriff?” he stepped inside the cone of light again, seemingly illuminating only you and the table. “You’re nowhere to be found inside that book,” he said, nudging with his head at the table behind you. “Yet, you’re no Mundy.” He paced quietly towards you, taking a puff from his cig before taking it between index and middle finger._  
_You glanced at the book from above your shoulder, your hand reaching for it and turning pages over pages, your body turning around completely as your attention got drawn to it, completely ignoring Bigby slowly approaching you: you quickly realized he was right, no image in the book resembling you enough, nothing even slightly hinting at someone like you. You could have been anyone, no one, and you had no way to tell._  
  
_You felt his presence behind your back, the scent of smoke filling your nostrils, his palms setting on the table, each at one of your sides._  
_“You don’t know your own name. But I can’t believe you’ve really forgotten about me.”_  
_You tried straightening back up, but your shoulders hit against his chest as he lowered enough to whisper in your ear. “Say my name, ghost.”_  
_“Bigby, what the-“_  
_His reply was almost a growl. “ **Not that one-** “ A chill was sent running down your spine as he inhaled sharply again. “my **true** name.”_  
_“What are you even-?”_  
_You stared in front of you in silence, feeling his head leaning against the back of your neck, his lips ghosting on your skin, making your hair stand on end. “Say it.”_

_You felt his arm winding around your waist, keeping you close to him, his lips just above the vein pulsing on the side of your throat as realization quickly sunk in._

  
“Wake up!”

Your eyes shot open as soon as the voice made you snap out of your sleep.  
“W-who- What!?” your eyes set on the pink shape angrily staring at you: seeing a human-like face glued to an animal body felt strangely unnatural and somehow familiar at the same time.

“What are you doing in my spot?” He bluntly asked: you were about to reply with a sleepy rant, but you grabbed the sides of your head and tried to focus. “You- wait-“  
You set your feet on the ground and your brain finally managed to crawl out of its dazed state and remind you of something you kept hearing of: fables. That’s what everyone was seemingly talking about.

...that explained the talking pig part, at least.

“What are you doing here?” you asked batting your eyelashes a couple of times, trying to process why a pig would want to live in an apartment like this.  
“I was about to ask you the same! Who the hell brought you in?!”  
“Uhhm… Bigby. You know, tall, bulky, grumpy face…” you said mimicking every trait as you listed it.  
The pig pondered your answer for a second. “Yeah, that does sound like him.” He gave you an up-and-down stare, then seemingly decided you were trustworthy enough to have his seat... for the time being.  
Silence settled in the room for a moment before he spoke again. “I’m Colin, by the way. And you?”

That… was the main problem. Without as much as an identity, you had no idea where to start.  
Your eyes lowered as a little pang of sadness and uneasiness made something in your chest ache.

“Are you okay?” Colin asked, seeing you visibly worried.  
“Not.. really, no.” you sighed softly. “But thanks for asking.” The pig shook his head and then went sitting in front of you. “So, how did you end up here?”  
You shrugged a bit, your eyebrows lightly tilting upwards as you recalled what you could remember. “I woke up on the scene of a crime. Blood everywhere. Beast barged through the door, helped me get back on my feet and dragged me here. Then Bigby told me to wait for him. End of what I know about me.”

“You’re saying… you lost your memory?” You nodded a bit. “Well… shit.”

You had quickly settled to watch the tv in religious silence, having had too much of ‘sharing’ for today. The armchair was big enough for you to lay sprawled across it, one leg hanging from the armrest and your head resting on the opposite side.  
You kept switching from channel to channel, suddenly stopping when you heard a groan coming from Colin. “Oh please, not this shit again.” As you looked back at the screen, you saw a cartoon of the three little pigs being broadcast.  
“What’s wrong with it?” you innocently asked, more to piss him off than anything.  
“Are you kidding?” he angrily nudged with his head towards the screen. “You know how much money this thing did? And you know how much richer that made me?!”  
“So… copyright problems?”  
“You’re damn right girl.” He scoffed. “If only copyrights existed a couple of centuries ago…”  
“Have you ever tried suing?” you joked, but he actually replied to you seriously.  
“Well, I believe Beauty and Beast tried… not sure how seriously the lawyer took them though…”

Beast… now that you thought about it, you hadn’t thought he was _that_ Beast. At first he was simply a blurry dot in your vision just after you had come to and screamed for help in the room painted in blood, then… then things had gotten too messed up to really stop and think about it.

“So… everyone is a fable here, right?” You casually asked.  
“Yup.” He said grimacing, until you changed channel again.

You looked in the void in front of you for a second, thinking: so, Bigby was a fable too… it actually felt stupid now that you thought about it, and made a lot of sense at the same time. Who better could keep everyone at bay but the one fables feared the most?

And thus… your dream might have not been a dream at all, although you weren’t so sure you wanted it to be a memory either.

The new channel was a music one, the video of the hit of the moment starting just as you had tuned in.  
You followed the music, humming along and singing a little as it went by. You discovered you remembered the words half-way through it, but didn’t realize you had been singing out loud until the video finished and Colin kept staring at you.  
“What was that?” he asked with a shocked expression.  
“The proof that whoever I was, I liked shitty pop music.” You grumbled from the armchair, not even looking at him as you boredly stared at the screen in front of you.

“Sing more.”  
You waited for a joke to be blurted out, but as Colin stared dead serious at you, you sat straighter on the armchair. “You… sure?”  
He rolled his eyes and snorted “Pretty please?” he exhasperatedly asked.

You muted the tv, awkwardly looked at him and back at the piece of wall in front of you, clearing your throat and slightly closing your eyes. Then, you opened your mouth again, singing the loveliest melody Colin had ever heard; the tune was almost ancestral, and he could swear you had the very voice of an angel. Most of all, you didn't even need to make an effort to do it, it felt very natural to you.  
You kept on singing, your eyes still shut: you sang not words, but simple, beautiful notes. You raised your voice and breathed in more air to keep on with the music, your lungs ready for the central part of it, complicated, though not impossible, and still beautiful. Your voice raised again and slowly died off in a single last note, that you prolonged lowering your voice little by little until the melody died out by itself.

 _A beginning, a middle, and an end._ It felt fitting, being a fable yourself. You looked down at the pig, whose jaw had now dropped wide open.  
“I take it was… okay?"  
"Okay? Okay?! That was amazing! Where did you learn to do th-" halfway through the sentence the realization struck him "Ah right, shit, your memory... nevermind".  
“Can we resume watching tv like zombies now?”  
He didn’t reply. You unmuted the tv.

“Hey… well, if you can’t remember your name…” he murmured, halfway through a talk show you had been watching for a good ten minutes before he had spoken again. “What about Harmony?”  
Your eyebrows tilted a bit. “Well… that sounds… pretentious.” _And stupid_ you mentally added in your head.  
"Trust me, _it's not_." he said, staring dead serious at you.

Before you could reply you suddenly heard someone knocking on the door. “Who’s in there!?” it was a female voice. Yelling. Colin worriedly looked at you, as if waiting for an answer you didn’t have “Err..nobody!” he yelled back.  
“Colin?! You’re supposed to be at the Farm!” you heard keys being taken out of a pocket and the lock of the door opening.  
“Wait, I didn’t say _come in_!!” Colin shouted, but the door had already been flung open, a dark haired pale lady storming inside the room.  
“What are you even doing—“ the woman stopped yelling at the pig as soon as she saw you silently sitting on the armchair cross-legged.  
“Hi.” You said, smiling awkwardly.  
”Uhm. Hi.” She replied, almost as awkwardly, and her characteristic gentleness momentarily overcame her anger.


	3. Shiny Rings and Drunk Librarians

There was a long, disturbingly awkward silence filling the air for a good minute before the woman spoke again.  
“Who are you?” she hesitatingly asked, and Colin replied before you could.  
“Snow, this is Harmo-“ “Don’t.” you interrupted him, shining a mildly-masked minacious grin towards the swine.

You looked at Snow and cleared your throat. “I… lost my memory. Beast brought me at Sheriff Wolf’s office, and then he told me to wait here for him to come back.” Hearing that name, Snow’s look changed to a death glare and her nostrils widened as she breathed out deeply “And where’s Sheriff Wolf now?” she said almost through gritted teeth.  
You were a little scared by the look she was giving you, and you couldn’t really tell whether sharing where Bigby was with her would have been a good idea or not. “Uh.. I.. I don’t..”

A shuffling of steps near the doorway attracted the attention of all of you: Bigby was leaning against the wall next to the kitchen, watching mildly amused the scene playing before him.  
He puffed on his cig as Snow strode in front of him. “This is _not_ how we do things, Bigby.” She angrily whispered, probably with the intention of not letting you and Colin hear, but the apartment was so little you had little difficulty at eavesdropping the conversation.  
“Good morning to you too, Snow.”  
They paced towards the door of the apartment, out of you and Colin's sight. “Why wasn’t I informed?!” “Because you beat me on time.” The wolf replied, without missing a beat.  
She slightly shook her head. “What the hell is going on here, Bigby?!?”

“Don’t make a fuss about it.“ he mumbled, rolling his eyes as Snow ignored him and kept talking. “You’re supposed to tell me everything going on around here! What are you up to?!” He raised his hands “Will you just let me explain?” He replied calmly, waiting for the woman to calm down before continuing.

“I’m sensing some kind of sexual tension here?” you quietly asked to Colin “Yep.” He replied above a whisper as he intently stared at the scene playing out in front of him.

Snow crossed her arms on her chest and simply waited for him to go on. “I was going to have a nice, lazy, rosy-cozy day of paperwork; then Beast called me, and half-panicking asked for my help: he was the one to bring her to me, along with a new case to be solved.”  
“Why did you leave her here?!”  
“What was I supposed to do?! Leave her with chuckles in the office??”  
“Bluebeard wouldn’t have bothered-“ Bigby stared unamused at her until she realized that _Bluebeard_ and _Friendly_ didn’t fit in the same sentence at once.

“So, are they going to make out or…” A voice coming from the other part of the house interrupted you. “You know I can hear you from here, right?” Bigby said while Snow looked back to you as well, clearly unaware of what you had been talking about.  
“Sorry.” You murmured with an awkward smile plastered on your face.

“Alright, _fine._ But why is Colin still here?? I had explicitly told you to send him to the Farm!” she ignored the ‘Hey’ coming from the pig and kept staring at the sheriff. “Listen, can we just talk about it later?!” he blurted out, walking past her.

“I can’t believe this.” Snow shook her head slightly, lifted her hands in defeat and walked out of the room.

He scratched the back of his neck and sighed, looking back for a moment as Snow walked away from him: you could tell there was something resembling chagrin twisting his features for half a second, but when he turned back to pace next to you his expression was back to his usual serious one.  
He crossed his arms on his chest, exhaling deeply as he looked at you.  
  
“There’s a pig in your house, sheriff. Demanding for a new home.” He glanced at Colin and then back to you.  
“And here I thought you wouldn’t have made new friends.”  
“It was good having someone to talk to.” You nicely remarked as you stood up, walking towards the table.  
“Mh. Finally someone found a good use for you, Colin.”  
He walked towards the… kitchen, you supposed, albeit there were little difference from it and a catchall.  
“Fuck you, Bigby.”

As Colin said that, you could see a little smirk on Bigby’s face: he opened the fridge door and took a glass bottle out of it.  
“He kept me company. He’s a good friend.” You remarked, with a jokingly angry tone.  
“Yeah, tell him, Harmony-“

“Harmony? Did you remember your name?” he looked towards you as he closed the fridge door. “No, I did not.” You said taking in a deep breath, staring at Colin and his cheeky grin.  
“Mh. It… suits you.” He said, opening the bottle and taking a sip of what you presumed was whisky. “Please, not you too…” you said, halfway between cringing and smiling, somehow tempted at the idea of adopting the name for the time being.  
  
“I’d offer you something, but there’s only whisky in the fridge, and I doubt you’re old enough for that.”  
“Hey, I’m old enough!” you instinctively remarked, but then looked at your side for a moment, thinking about it, and added “ _I think._ ”  
Thinking back to the task at hand, you discarded the whole discussion. “Anyway… I’m not hungry, thanks sheriff…” you stared for a moment a point on the floor, taking in a deep breath and mustering the courage to ask. “Did you find something?”

“Well… I went to the apartment with Beast,” He said, scratching the stubble on his chin “We found candles, incense, many things that hint to an evocation.”  
“Huh.” You managed to mumble as you pondered the news.  
“It means that you might be a witch, or some kind of spirit.” He added, as he paced next to the table and leant against it.  
“Is that even a thing?” you expectantly asked, somehow hoping it could get you a tad closer to discovering who you really were. “Yeah. But that doesn’t really narrow the possibilities: there were as many spirits as princesses in distress back in the Homelands; maybe even more.”  
He took another sip of whisky, placing then the bottle on top of the notes sprawled on the wooden surface of the table.

Snow came back inside the room, looked sideways at Bigby and then back to you. “I should have been informed of your arrival before, but-“ “It’s fine.” You interrupted her, smiling a little and trying to cheer her up, seeing how badly she was handling the situation.  
“I am Snow White, deputy mayor assistant here in Fabletown.”  
“Glad to meet you.” You said, smiling a little.

“You know there was… someone, in the room with you, right?” Bigby said, speaking gravely: you though about the corpse laying next to you when you woke up for a moment, shoving that memory in the back of your skull as soon as you can and nodding towards him.  
“We brought what was left of him back here in the woodlands…” he started, and seeing the looks on your faces Snow understood the situation.  
“Kid, I don’t mean to ask too much, but maybe if you gave him a look…”  
“It’s okay if you don’t feel up to-“ Snow tried to intercede, but you had already made up your mind.  
“No.” you raised your gaze towards the two of them. “I… I really wanna help.”

\-----

The travel towards the witching well floor was dead silent: you kept fiddling with your hands, mainly anxious about the whole thing; Bigby silently puffed on his cigarette and stared in the distance while Snow gave you slinky glances, wondering whether she should have tried to hearten you up a bit.

The elevator came to a halt and its doors tinged open: Bigby got out first, you followed him suit as Snow walked by your side.

At the end of the hall you could see a bloodied body laying on top of a stone platform, mostly covered in a white blanket, its face mauled beyond recognition, the shape underneath the thin white veil clearly missing some limbs.  
You paced nearer to the corpse, your breath catching in your throat and your eyes watering a bit: you were pretty sure you weren’t used to seeing dead people.

As you kept intently staring at it, trying to remember anything that could have been of use, Snow stopped some feet back at Bigby’s side, watching you just as he was doing.  
“Why do you care so much about her?” she whispered towards him.  
The wolf raised an eyebrow and looked sideways at her. “Me? Caring?”  
“You didn’t even list her as a suspect.” She murmured shrugging.  
“Well, if someone evoked her they ripped her presence from her plain of existence...” Snow frowned and looked at him, silently asking whether he was justifying a murder. ”Not saying it could have been self-defense, but something real close?” he raised his eyebrows and looked back to you. “Maybe.”  
“You’re defending her now?”  
He exhaled deeply, lowering his gaze. “Listen, I just- know. My nose doesn’t lie, Snow.”  
He didn’t know how you managed, but you smelt of lavender, forests, rain, something too wild to belong to this city. Something too good to pass unnoticed for so many years.

It was the first time he smelt something that got slightly close to Snow’s scent, and if you had lived in the city he was sure he should have been able to find you many years ago.  
He didn’t know you, but he had the hunch he could trust you, and even if he didn’t exactly know why, he knew following his instinct had always been the best course of action.

   
_The man isn't breathing anymore, staring blankly at the ceiling. You can't stop looking at his face, the foul smell of blood invading your nostrils as tears blurred your view and you slowly dug your heels on the ground, trying to get as far from it as possible._  
_"I'm sorry." you murmur, not sure where that was coming from._  
  
_"I'm so so sorry..." you knew it had to be your fault, but the memories are missing, and the corpse staring at you is nothing more than a stranger._  
_Hot tears run down your cheeks as Beast kneels next to you, convincing you to get out of that room, ignoring something inside of you that was spurring you to stay with the unknown corpse._

 

“Kid?” a hand lightly squeezed at your shoulder, startling you and making you snap out of your memories.  
“S-sorry.” You murmured, blinking a couple of times and briefly looking up at Bigby before lowering your eyes again on the body in front of you. “I think I zoned out a little.”

You sighed softly “I’m sorry. I can’t remember anything about him.” You felt his hand softly squeezing again your shoulder “It doesn’t matter," he said, something in his tone giving you the feeling he wasn't really hoping you could do that "you did good.”  
He started making his way back to the elevator, pulling you at his side: your head turned back to glance at the corpse one last time before following Bigby outside, but as soon as you started walking away from it you heard someone walking inside the entrance, and Bufkin sauntered in with a pile of books between his arms.

“Sheriff Wolf!” he called from behind the books, which were completely shielding him from view.  
Bigby sighed deeply. “What is it, Bufkin?”  
“The books- books you’ve asked for!” Bigby slightly leant to take the first ones from the pile, finally showing Bufkin’s face, his chin still pressed against one of the edges of the top book to keep it still. “I didn’t mean you had to bring them to me immediately.”  
The monkey shrugged as much as he was able to - given the current situation. You knelt next to him and took the remaining books from his hands.

“I hope they’ll be of help, but asking to the witches might be the best course of action to identify the victim’s possessions.”  
“Possessions? What is he talking about?” Snow asked.  
“The man had some odd jewelry: rings, graven bracelets. I was half expecting to find a wand at some point.”  
“Where are they?” Snow insisted, and Bigby simply nudged his head towards a side table you hadn’t noticed at first, where a set of small shining objects was laying tidily.  
“Anything else you should be telling me?” Snow angrily asked.  
“No.” He replied without even looking at her.  
“Bigby.”

Sensing a new fall out coming, you stepped towards said table: up close you could see they were mainly personal effects, although a silver ring particularly caught your attention. As you leant in to take a better look at it, the pitch black orb nestled inside of the ring glowed of a bright golden color.  
“Should that be glowing?” You asked, hoping to be overheard above the new discussion between Snow and Bigby.  
Bufkin paced next to you and tiptoed to look at the shiny objects.  
“I know what this is!” he said, looking back at the other two who in the meantime had managed to stop discussing again. “It’s a ring of illusions! It’s made to detect illusive spells like glamours!”  
Snow paced near the two of you, glancing at the little object. “We should bring it to the 13th floor…” she stated.  
“Are you really trusting the drunken monkey?” Bigby mumbled from behind her, taking another cigarette from the pack.  
“Bigby!” Snow turned and scowled him.

Bufkin delicately took the ring with two fingers and stepped near Snow, pointing it towards her. “See? Near Miss Snow it doesn’t do a thing, but next to her…” the gem on the ring faintly glowed again as Bufkin neared it to your skin.

The sheriff looked towards Snow. “You really wanna make the witches take a look at her? You know they do what they want.” Snow sighed at his statement, before gesturing you to follow her in the elevator. “So do you, sheriff.”


	4. The 13th Floor

“Bufkin was talking about glamours before, right? What… are they, exactly?” you asked Snow, as the elevator slowly made its way towards the upper floors.  
Bigby replied to you before she could “Something to make you look like someone you’re not.”  
Since he had heard you were headed towards the witches he had been strangely tense… you couldn’t help but wonder why, but at the same time you didn’t know enough to give yourself a satisfying response besides ‘Bigby doesn’t like people’.

The floor button light flickered weirdly when the elevator doors dinged open again, showing you for the first time the thirteenth floor: you weren’t sure what to expect, knowing witches were involved, but as you stepped inside the first hall you realized it looked like any other floor of the building, maybe just more well kept. It was clear a lot of money was circulating here, given the luxurious furniture and thick carpets sprawled everywhere around.  
You could see two people talking in the main hall in front of you, and you walked alongside Bigby and Snow towards them.

“Why are you bothering us today, Wolf?” an old woman asked Bigby, with a tone that said a lot about their relationship.  
“Don’t mind me, witch: if it was up to me I would have never set foot here.”  
“Good morning!” Snow cheerily exclaimed, ignoring the banter between the two of them.  
“Ah, Miss Snow! What brings you to the thirteen floor?” the cat sitting on top of a coffee table purred: you stared at it for half a second, shifting your gaze when it looked at you, reminding yourself of _fables_ and _Colin_ and practically all the other people you had met so far.

“Harmony-“ she introduced you, and you silently cursed undertone Colin as you gave up on trying to make Snow call you something else. ”-These are Prospero, Frau Totenkinder and Maddy.” She said gesturing to the three people in front of you.  
“We need your help to dispel her glamour.” Snow added, looking towards them.

“A glamour?” the old woman mumbled, his tone betraying more curiosity than annoyance. ”Why can’t she dispel it herself?”  
“She.. has lost her memory.” She sadly admitted. “You can’t turn back if you don’t remember what you looked like before.” She explained to you, comfortingly placing her hand on your shoulder.

You saw the old man raising a palm, a little blue light birthing from the center of it and traveling towards your body, where it dissolved just before touching your skin in a golden aura.  
“It’s not ours…” the witch noted.  
“It is not even a glamour… it’s more like… an illusion spell.” The old man added, his hand resting on his chin and caressing his long beard.

“C-can you do something then?” the man nodded at you and gestured you to follow him inside another hall: the floor was inlaid with complicated decorations and a big window brought light inside the whole room, showing you another immaterial magical archive, just like the one you had seen in the Business Office that morning.  
The wizard gestured you towards a chair in the middle of the room. “It will be like putting back in place a twisted arm. It won’t hurt… much.”  
You sat on it, placing your hands on the armrests: with a flick of his hand, iron shackles appeared on the chair and closed around your wrists and ankles, making you falter a bit in your new restraints.  
Your fists clenched at your sides as you trembled slightly, nervous about the treatment you were being given.  
“It’s solely for your protection, child.” The cat purred as it passed near your legs, and you gave it an unconvinced nod in response.

“The iron isn’t making any reaction… she isn’t a minor witch or specter…” the witch muttered again, as Prospero started preparing a spell, golden sparkles flickering in his hands.  
You felt the magic surrounding the room, twisting around you and then enveloping your body, clasping around you and pressing at the back of your eyes, your brain giving you the sensation of being ripped apart from the inside.  
You whined and screamed, the pain at this point had become unbearable, but the restraints prevented you from making any movement, your nails digging crescents in your palms.

It all stopped suddenly, your body falling limp against the chair, breathing quickly and sharply: you felt tears beginning to wet the edges of your eyes as you fought to find the strength to raise your head again.

“What’s going on, Prospero? You forgot the dispel chants?”  
The man mumbled something to himself before turning towards the other witches.  
“It’s not working: the illusion is stronger than I thought. I’ll need some assistance, if you don’t mind...”  
Your head snapped towards them when they aligned in front of you and started muttering ancient spells again. “No- wait!!”  
The chant started again, the feeling of your head cracking open returning to flood your senses, incredibly feeling much worse than before: there was something pushing at the sides of your upper chest from your inside, as if it was trying to get out of your skin.  
Hot tears were streaming down your cheeks, your eyes closed shut for the pain and your vision completely blurred.  
Your scream became higher and higher, until it was just a raspy screech, many people in the room tilting their head in another direction at the sheer volume of it.

Your nails had turned into long claws, digging at the wood of the chair as you kept yelling them to stop, but none of them seemed to listen to you.

“Enough!” Bigby roared, striding in front of them, forcing them to recall all their spells.  
He cupped your cheek, raising your head towards him, brushing away the tear that was running down the side of your face with the pad of his thumb; his finger was stained with a crimson red liquid: you hadn’t been crying just tears.  
Your nails and teeth turned back to normal, your blank eyes confirming what he had been suspecting for a while. Damn, he was really hoping he could have gotten you out of this situation in another way.

“We must continue, sheriff-“ a voice spoke from somewhere behind him, as Bigby knelt next to you and unstrapped your ankles and wrists from the chair.  
As soon as your hands were free you held on to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing yourself against him.  
“Don’t let them hurt me again. Please, _please_ Bigby…” his arms wound around your trembling form, making you feel oddly safe.  
“At this point we all know what she is,” He murmured, turning slightly his head towards the witches. “Breaking the illusion would just make her mad.”

“Breaking the illusion makes her vulnerable. I won’t let one of those monsters roam free-” The old wizard started, but was interrupted mid-sentence by the sheriff. “Let’s make something clear:” Bigby growled, standing up and turning towards the man who had just spoken “None of you will be executing her under my watch.”  
Frau Totenkinder took a step forward, pointing her index towards you “So we must wait for the ghost to lose control? It has happened before-“ “Just like black magic has been happening, child kidnappings and curses upon princes, but you don’t see me throw any of you down the Witching Well.” Bigby replied with a calm tone, but deep enough to sound intimidating.  
“Is that a threat, sheriff?!”  
“It’s a warning.” Bigby snarled back, before Snow walked between them. “Let’s all calm down now!”

“You must allow us to bind her magically: it’s the only way to be sure-“ “Bindings won’t be enough! A dimensional cage-“ “-or a permanent transmutation-“ voices and ideas kept covering one another, in a long list of terrible things that could have been cast upon you.

You soon realized it was not just the witches: even Bigby and Snow looked at you differently. They were all scared of you.  
“What am I?” you asked, but nobody was listening. You inhaled sharply, clenching your teeth together, something snapping in the back of your mind as a high, screeching scream replaced your voice.

“ **WHAT AM I?** ”  
The room fell silent, and everyone stared at you.  
Frau Totenkinder stepped forward. “You’re a banshee. A ghost of yore. Your kind is deemed extinct, and for a good reason.” You swore you could hear the sound of Bigby’s teeth clenching together inside his mouth.  
“Your kin brings omens of death upon innocents, as an act of revenge for your unjust deaths.”  
“Not _all_ of them.”  
“And what do you know, wolf?”  
Before the sheriff could reply, Snow’s hand had snapped on his arm, stopping him from answering.

You tried to stand up, but a pang of blinding pain like the one you had just underwent erupted from the side of your brain and your legs gave way underneath you: your knees buckled and Bigby reached for you just in time, grabbing you before you hit the floor.  
“S-sorry…” you whispered as you tried to stand up again, but his free arm was already wrapped around the back of your legs, sweeping you from your feet.

“You know what you have to do, sheriff.” The croaky voice of Frau Totenkinder remarked.  
Your arms were loosely wrapped around his neck, the side of your head resting against his shoulder. You felt like your soul had just plummeted in the void, your only wish to find somewhere peaceful and cry yourself back to sleep.

You felt Bigby’s arms winding tighter around you as he turned around and paced back towards the elevator, without muttering a word.  
“Are you okay?” his husky voice whispered once he was far enough from the mages. You simply nodded, knowing that anything you would have said would have sounded like a lie.  
“I won’t let them hurt you. I promise.” He murmured, the stubble on his chin lightly grazing against your forehead as he looked down at you.

He gave Snow a sad look as he entered inside the elevator, pressing one of the buttons and closing her out of it.  
“What do banshees do really?” you feebly asked against his chest, hoping his opinion would have been better than Totenkinder’s one.  
“They’re… protective spirits, generally, but they can be easily manipulated. They’ve been entirely enslaved back in the Homelands, used as assassins, forced to kill, and even before… well, they are used to scaring people. After the Exile, I have never heard of one appearing outside of Europe.”  
  
“…am I evil, sheriff?”  
His chest raised as he took in a deep breath. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but-“  
The elevator slowly came to a halt, and he placed you back on the ground: your head was feeling still a bit dizzy, and you were still heavily leaning against him.  
“For what it matters…” he quickly grabbed your wrists and placed them behind your back, restraining you “…I’m sorry.” You tried to look up at him, but he simply grabbed the base of your neck, just like he had done in the morning, and pushed you out of the elevator.  
“Your species is a distant cousin of the djinns; there’s no telling when and where you’ll lose control again.”  
“Djinns?”  
“Genies. They’re blood-thirsty beings: the only difference is that they choose to make evil, while Banshees are subject to outer forces- you won’t be able to control it, and I can’t have you go on a killing spree.” He explained as he pushed you through the hallways, bringing you in front of an empty room, a thick door opened at its entrance.  
“Bigby- you can’t-” he pushed you inside the cell, slightly closing the door. “You have been found on the scene of a murder. I _must_ declare you under arrest.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but he simply clenched his jaw and closed the door behind him.

“Bigby-!!“ you banged on the great metal door, still not believing this was happening: you faintly heard his steps disappearing down the corridor.  
You turned around and let yourself slide down the door, sitting on the cell floor, keeping your knees close to your chest and pulling your hood up your head, silently trying not to cry.

 

He walked out of the block of apartments, feeling like he could have used some fresh air before diving in the immense amount of paperwork awaiting for him back at his office.  
“Are you alright?” the wolf simply glanced at Snow approaching him as he fished his pack of Huff and Puff from his pocket, tapping the bottom and biting the cigarette that popped up.  
He shielded it with his hand from the wind while he lit it, puffing a couple of times before replying to her.  
“I’ve been better.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t ask the witches? They looked like they knew what they were doing…”  
The wolf slightly shook his head. “She’s still weak. If she wanted to get out, she would have already done that.”  
“How comes you know so much about banshees?”  
Bigby ignored her question in silence, muttering instead: “You really wanna know why I wanted to help her?”  
Snow took in a deep breath, disregarding her previous question. “Yes.”  
The wolf waited a little before replying. “Long ago… back in the Homelands, everyone feared me, except the kid and her sisters. They went from village to village, announcing my presence to anyone their screams could reach as soon as they discovered I was headed that way. When I walked through the empty streets, heading back towards the forest, there was always one of them joining me at my side.” He said, flicking the ash off the cigarette, looking in the distance as he recalled facts that had happened so many centuries ago.  
“Why haven’t you told me you knew her?”

“Because I wasn’t sure it was her. Banshees are created to look alike, many of them even choose not to have a name… I didn’t think it could have been really her until I heard her.”  
He puffed smoke as he continued recalling his story.  
“She treated me not like the big bad wolf, but like… someone who hadn’t got luck on his side for most of his life.” Snow had rarely seen Bigby’s gaze softening as it was doing now. “I know she was wrong... yet, she was the only one who ever tried to approach me, tried to see goodness even where there really wasn’t any."

He looked at Snow, knowing she would have agreed. “Both of us know Fabletown needs more people like her. And this means I can’t let the witches torture her with whatever they have in mind, I...”  
Bigby took in another deep breath.  
“I don’t want her to change.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I’m just putting together fables, legends and practically anything interesting I can find on the internet (supernatural included), so many of these things aren’t really canon.  
> ‘sides, I’ve read just the first five issues of Fables and half of its wiki, so I don’t know if I have portrayed Totenkinder/Maddy/Prospero or even just the glamours in a decent way.  
> What I’m trying to say is- sorry in advance if I messed something up. I’m not mean, I’m just ignorant.


	5. Don't Poke The Banshee While She's Sleeping

_”You’re late, Wolf.” You murmured without looking down from the branch you had been sitting on during the past half an hour, a twig breaking under his paws giving away his position._  
_He grumbled undertone as he always did and you couldn’t help but smile._  
_“Unlike you, I can’t fly over villages. I have to walk around to avoid the angry mobs with the pitchforks.” He said, sitting at the base of the tree and looking up towards you._  
_A long silence settled between the two of you, as you simply gazed up at the sky, admiring the new moon._  
_As wind blew against your long hair and dark red robes, you pleasantly noted the cold night air was getting warmer and warmer with each passing day, spring soon to come._  
_You closed your eyes, enjoying the whole atmosphere, when you heard his voice speaking from underneath you._

 _“How do I call you?”_  
_You opened your eyes again and narrowed them in thought before replying. “I don’t have a name. Not a real one, at least.” The wolf silently waited for you to go on: you looked in the distance as you continued._  
_“Banshees are born from the dead. It would be foolish to call myself like someone I’m not anymore.”_  
_“Yet you haven’t chosen a new name.” he curiously remarked._  
_“No, I haven’t.” You simply replied, for it was the truth after all. “I don’t feel ready. Maybe I never will.” You levitated from the branch on which you had been sitting, slowly reaching the ground and delicately landing in front of the wolf, wet soil underneath your bare feet as you moved towards the path that led towards the lake, your giant interlocutor moving alongside you._  
_You heard his heavy paws following you, and you intertwined your fingers behind your back as you calmly paced through the forest, your long braids hovering just a couple of inches from the mud and melted snow on the ground. “It’s not the name that makes the man, it’s the other way round.” You turn around while keeping pacing backwards “If you were to change your name tomorrow, do you think people would forget so easily the decisions you took today?”_  
_“Mh… there are ways,” he mumbled as he kept following you “most people are stupid enough to believe anyone can change.”_  
_“But then you would have just modified their perception of you. Would you really change to please someone?” you asked him, slightly turning around as you approached your destination._  
_He exhaled deeply from behind you. “I guess not.”_

 _You reached the big pond of water at the end of the road: albeit smaller than usual, you knew it was a matter of days before it would have overflowed the dams._  
_“This doesn’t change the fact that you could use a name.”_  
_“Heh. Maybe another time.” You said, smiling to him._  
_You looked inside the clear water that was melting its way through the ice: you felt yourself lightly dragged upon it as you saw a premonition coming, and you scouted a bit closer to see it better._

_Blood was everywhere on the tiles of the floor, a feral, lean humanoid figure disappearing in the shadows outside of a window, out in the darkness of New York’s night. Pieces of someone sprawled on the ground and incense filling your nostrils. You looked the murderer climbing down the set of apartments, followed him down in the road and raised your gaze to take note of the name of the street, before you plummeted inside the dark icy water underneath.  
_

You woke up with a squeal, you clothes completely drenched: your eyes shot open, your teeth clenching instinctively as you growled towards the man holding an empty bucket in his hands.  
“How cute… did the dog teach you that or did you pick it up by yourself?” Bluebeard smirked.  
“What the fuck is your problem?!”  
“Tsk. You took after his language too.” He disgustedly remarked, throwing the bucket on the ground.

He closed the gap between the two of you and you noticed he was carrying a long, thick, golden chain wrapped in loops around his shoulder. You gulp as you lower your eyes, suddenly remembering what you had just predicted during your dream. “There will be a murder.”  
“Is that a threat?” He said, lowering down and grabbing your wrist.  
“No, you fucking idiot! It’s the truth!” You tried to get away from him, but he had you easily cornered on the ground and quickly managed to catch your wrists before forcing you on your feet.  
“You must hear me out--” you were silenced by a slap on your face, tilting your head for the force of the blow.  
“Shut the hell up!” He dragged you towards the only chair in the room, making you sit on it and locking your hands with the straps on the armrests.  
“Does Bigby even know about this?” he lowered to speak to you face to face. “I’m the one making questions here.”  
“He will kick your ass as soon as he finds out, you know that-“ another slap cadenced the end of your sentence, and this time you felt the metallic taste of blood leaking from the corner of your mouth.

He slid the chain off his shoulder and on his forearm as he paced in front of you, dramatically pausing before speaking again.  
“Why did you kill that man?”  
“What the hell are you even-“ a punch on your stomach silenced you this time: you coughed as air was abruptly pushed out of your lungs.  
“Answer me!” he screamed, and you screamed back “I lost my memories!”  
“Huh. And you think I’m just going to believe that?” He circled around you and you heard the rings of the chain clinking against one another as he wrapped it around your form, each loop a bit tighter than before.  
It took you a moment to realize you weren’t imagining the burning itching sensation spreading through your clothes, all over your body.

“Don’t force me to bind you further.” He paced back in front of you, making sure to tighten the grip of the chain around your chest as he did so. “Where are your accomplices?”  
“I don’t know!” you yelled back, the itching turning to pain, more and more intense.  
“Stop lying!”  
“I’m not!” you saw a piece of your exposed skin turning to a dark purple sickly color as it touched against the golden chain.  
“What the-“ you lightly shook your head as the pain all over your body was growing more and more intense. “You’d better answer me. I’ve seen banshees turning to dust after much less contact with gold.”  
You were panting, finding it more and more difficult to keep breathing regularly. “Let go of me-“  
“Answer-“ “ **I have none of your answers!** ” your inhuman voice screamed back.  
He grabbed your neck with one hand, part of the chain in his free one. “Killing me won’t solve shit!” but he had already bound the chain around your throat, tightening it with both his hands. “Talk!”

The air was being denied to you, your windpipe threatening to crush under that poisonous metal any moment now, but suddenly you realized the little contact his hands were making with your skin was enough to draw in another vision, of castles and wealth and wives and death.

Countless faces flashed before you, the horror in their eyes reflecting your own as the feral part of the banshee made way towards your conscious self.  
“ **You’re just a fucking coward!** ”  
Another pair of arms erupted from underneath your shoulders, pushing through your tattered robe and grabbing Bluebeard’s wrists, clenching on the bones and making them loosen their grip on you.  
You felt hot tears welling up in your eyes, Bluebeard’s expression shifting from raging to frightful as his eyes followed them falling down your cheeks: when you licked them near the side of your mouth, you realized they were blood as well.

Your nails grew into claws, easily sinking in his skin: he screamed in pain as he let go of you, your new pair of hands undoing the straps. You pushed yourself from the chair and broke it in half as you flew through the room and pinned him to the opposite wall, keeping him a few inches above ground.  
“ **Oh, how they screamed when they realized the monster you are. And how gladly you gutted them, for you knew no one would have come for their help. And when they did, you bought your way out of it, just like the filthy worm you are! You’re fucking disgusting!** ” he still had one of the ends of the chain in his hand and he wrapped it around his palm as some kind of brass knuckles before punching you again: you let go of him and faltered back, grabbing the injured side of your face who was feeling like it had just been frost bitten.

He yanked at the chain, which was still wrapped around your neck, and you fell back on the ground, the pain blinding you again as you were quickly being choked to death. Your hands dug on the skin of your neck, trying to loosen the grip, but weakness softly darkened the edges of your vision as you flopped on the ground, your eyes barely a crack and your senses flooded with pain as you registered someone rushing inside the room yelling before completely blacking out.

 

Bigby landed a punch square on his jaw, hard enough to make him falter, and pushed his free forearm against his throat, pinning him against the wall. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!?“  
He glanced at the chain and his eyes widened in realization as he let go of Bluebeard and rushed back towards your body, pulling the chains away from it.  
Since you were still unconscious, he lowered next to you and pressed the side of his head against your chest, already fearing for the worst. He sighed in relief when he heard you take in a deep breath.  
He straightened back up and looked towards Bluebeard “What the fuck were you thinking?!”

“She knows more than she lets on, sheriff.”  
“And you think you can fucking stroll in and kill her just like that?!”  
“It was working-“ Bigby bared his teeth, his eyes glinting of a vivid yellow for the briefest of moments, but it was enough to struck dumb Bluebeard, who silently lowered his gaze.  
“I find you again roaming near her, I’ll break your bones in so many tiny pieces not even Swineheart will be able to mend you.”

He sighed deeply and took you in his arms, too fed up by this display of unnecessary bullshit to care about the witches’ concerns regarding you possibly murdering someone or not.  
He knew it was not as simple as that. Sure, he was aware of the fact that you _might_ have tried to kill people. But he also knew you would have gladly sacrificed your life back in the Homelands before letting an innocent be harmed, even if it meant standing in the path of the Big Bad Wolf.

“Where are you taking her?!” Bluebeard asked as he saw Bigby pacing away, but the wolf gave him no answer.

 

A steady heartbeat thumping against your ear was the first thing you heard as you slowly came to: you hummed as you pressed yourself against somebody’s warm chest, before cracking one eye open.  
“Bigby?” You were hearing the elevator softly buzzing, something resembling a silent sigh of relief making Bigby’s chest rise for a brief moment.  
“Glad you’re awake.”  
“I tried to warn him… he didn’t listen… someone… is going to get killed…” you murmured panting.  
“Where?”  
“Fieldstone Avenue. 7757.” You said, recalling the address you had managed to glance at half a second before being abruptly awoken. “Somebody bony. Sharp. Sneaky. And a victim reduced like… well, the one you found with me.”

The elevator came to a halt before reaching the apartments floor, and Snow White walked inside, barely looking up at Bigby as she kept staring at several neatly ordered paper sheets kept inside a tiny blue folder.  
“Bigby, Boyblue just called…” her eyes widened when she raised them and looked at you. “What happened?”  
“Bluebeard _interrogated_ her.” He replied, furrowing his brow.  
“I’m fine. It hurts just when I breathe.” You sarcastically reassured her with a very tired tone, holding her gaze as long as you could before being drawn back to Bigby’s warm shoulder, pressing you forehead against it as you rested your eyes for some more time.  
“There was another murder.” Snow murmured meekly.  
“Fieldstone avenue?”

“… how do you know?” she asked him curiously, her tone betraying the uncertainty in her voice.  
“The kid is starting to control her powers again.” He said, with something somehow resembling pride in his voice. Snow gave him a glance that silently asked whether it was a good thing or not.

He wanted to convince her, but he could see from the look on her face she had no intention of letting him win this argument.  
“She’s regaining her powers. She can help me. And I want Bluebeard to fucking stay away from her. Either this, or I’ll-” he said almost through gritted teeth, his tone getting more and more angry.  
“Look… I’ll talk to him. We’ve had enough turmoil for today. But I can’t have her go around Fabletown like this.” She took a step closer, put her hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently. “Just go investigate. I’ll take care of her.”  
The wolf remained silent for a moment before speaking again.  
“She’s coming with me.” He stated, not even asking for permission.  
“What? No!”  
“She’s foreseen the murder!”  
“She might be lying.”  
You placed your hand on Snow’s one, keeping it against your shoulder. You spoke without opening your eyes. “Seven little men ruined your life, along with your sister and husband… you never forgave them, no matter how hard you tried.” you gathered the few energies you had left to look at her, your sides sending weird chills up your spine as you breathed. “And that’s why you never forgave yourself either, always all alone at the remembrance ball, fearing you might get stung by rose spines again.”

There was a long moment of silence, and many emotions crossed Snow White’s face. You could feel her sorrow, bitterness, hope. Most of all, you sensed her feeling disrespected and conflicted by Bigby being right about you.  
“… enough to convince you, Miss White?”


	6. Cold Trails

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. I’m here to Ruin Everything. Again.

“What happened?” Colin murmured as Bigby closed the door behind himself. He made a disgruntled noise and simply shook his head. “A whole new load of bullshit.”  
He paced inside the room and softly placed you on the armchair, carefully positioning you across it.  
“What are we doing here again?” you mumbled as you looked up at him, softly shaken awake by their conversation.  
“Staying out of the way while Snow arranges all the documents you’ll need.” You widened your eyes a bit as you pleasantly discovered the news: you had passed out shortly after your little trick, you weren’t so sure it would have been enough to convince Snow.

“We’ve convinced her?” you asked smiling, pinning your elbows on the chair and shifting position on the leathery surface.  
“You did most of the job, but… yes.”  
“Yay.” Your smile widened, and you allowed your body to rest again on the armchair. “We’re gonna have the bestest of times together, Wolf.” You tiredly murmured as you pressed your head against the armrest, closing your eyes, almost immediately falling asleep. Bigby softly smiled before going to his room to change his now bloodstained shirt.

Incredible how little you remembered of him… and yet how little you had changed.  
Nothing set an alarm off in a fable’s mind more than the presence of the Big Bad Wolf in the same room, and yet you treated him the same way you always had: with jokes and selflessness and that sort of kindness he was rarely granted with during his long long life.  
He peels the shirt off of himself and puts on a new one before making his way back to the main room of his apartment.

You hear small quick steps approaching you.  
“How are you doing, girl?”  
You open one eye to stare back at Colin’s worried frown. “Fine. Mostly.” You could still feel the bruises underneath your clothes, and the upper part of your arms had turned into a violet color, which was slowly fading back to your regular skin tone. Good thing that fables recovered fast.

The sheriff came back towards you, his expression betraying the guilt he was feeling. “I’m sorry this happened. I wasn’t expecting Bluebeard to act this fast.”  
You begrudgingly shifted on the chair, acknowledging that Bigby couldn’t have done anything to prevent it and yet had not protected you as he had said.  
“It’s fine, Bigby. It doesn’t even hurt that much anymore.” You murmured, closing your eyes and smiling at him: it was a lie. You knew it, he knew it. Probably even Colin noticed.

“Do you know for how long we’ll have to wait?”  
Bigby took in a deep breath and shrugged, disappearing inside the kitchen. “It might take some time. Even if little, Fabletown has as much bureaucracy as any other city, and there are no records of you in it.”  
“Gotcha.” You mumbled, reaching for the tv remote while the sheriff rummaged for a glass of whiskey in the kitchen.  
His voice raised over the sound of shifting glasses and bottles. “You want something?”  
“What do you have?”  
“Mhh… Whiskey and… tap water.”  
“He doesn’t have guests very often. In case you haven’t noticed.” Colin mumbled after rolling his eyes.  
“I’ll have some of that whiskey.”

He came back inside the room with two glasses; you simply stared at the half finger of whiskey laying at the bottom of the glass he was offering you. You raised your gaze to lock eyes with him.  
“Still going on with the ‘kid treatment’? I might be even older than you, for all you know.” You grumbled as you accepted the glass.  
“You’re tiny. I honestly don’t know how much you can drink and I really don’t wanna explain Snow the reason why you might be drunk.”  
You exhaled deeply, acknowledging that he had somewhat a point and tasted the strong rich flavor that only cheap whiskey can truly offer.

“So, what do you do for fun?”  
The pig now laying again in the corner of the room replied before he could. “Drink. Smoke. Sleep.” Bigby shot an icy glance at Colin, just as the swine was tilting his head up again from his laying position to meet his gaze. “Torment me.” He added, going on with his list.  
Bigby simply sipped his whiskey, pausing before mumbling “I mean, he’s not wrong.”

“Tv it is, then.” You muttered as you turned it on.  
You scooted over one side of the armchair, leaving enough space for him. “Sit with me.”  
“I don’t think we would-“  
“Shut up, sheriff. I’m _tiny_ , there’s more than enough space for the two of us.” You teased with a smirk plastered on your face, weakly patting on the chair.

You smiled as he gave in and closed the distance between the two of you.  
It was not spacious, but you two fit well enough: you had to move your legs on top of his to actually fit, but he didn’t seem to mind much.  
You lasted for a very short time before falling back to sleep. He carefully took the now empty glass from your hands to silently place it on the dresser next to him, then moved his arm and made your head rest against his chest.  
He looked down at you as he sipped his whisky: he hadn’t seen you this peaceful in a very long while.

He turned off the volume of the tv, realizing just now that he probably hadn’t slept in a very long while. Given the fact that his ‘sleeping’ consisted mostly on passing out in either his armchair or desk chair, he seriously hadn’t had a moment to take a breath in a very long while.

Just as he was about to give in and fall asleep too, he felt you stir against his chest. Your breathing became more regular, but you just blinked and waited for a while, enjoying the nice warmth seeping through his clothes.

“Hey Sheriff… can I ask you something?”  
“Sure.” His gruff voice murmured back.  
“Answer honestly,” You shift against his body as you try to force that question out of your mouth. “Did we know each other… before yesterday?”  
He exhaled deeply before finishing his glass and setting it next to the one already on the dresser. “Yes.”  
“Was I really that evil? I can’t recall much, and-“ “You were fine. More than fine. You saved people, helped strangers.” He tilted his head back, resting it against the headrest and closing his eyes. “Your sisters were tortured into submission, as far as I know.”  
“By whom?”  
“That’s… where the part I don’t know begins.” He opened his eyes again, too tired of withholding information from you to do it again. “Nobody really knows. There was war at the time. With the Adversary’s troops marching over the Homelands, everyone started losing their grip on reality...”  
“When people started realizing the banshees had been disappearing from the cliffs and forests, there was very little that could be done about it.”

“What happened to them?”  
“I don’t know…”  
You take a moment to study his face before insisting. “If you know, please, tell me. I can take it. Whatever that is.”  
He sighed. It was useless. Most of the fables knew about it, they just didn’t like talking about it. You would have known, one way or another. “They were captured by someone. Turned against the other fables. Used to kill.”  
“I-I… was turned into… a murderer?”  
He shifted his head to look at you again. “No. Not yet. Not until anything’s proved.”  
You took a moment to process the information and sighed softly.  
“How did we meet each other?”  
“Well…”  
Before he could continue, the telephone sitting on top of the piece of furniture in the other side of the room started ringing. He moved to go get the call, but just as he stood up he felt your hand grabbing his.  
“Tell me.”  
“It’s a long story. Another time.”  
“Bigby-“ you started complaining, but he was already walking away.

He picked up the phone and pressed it against his ear, putting it back in its place shortly after, without as much as muttering a word.  
“C’mon.” He said, gesturing towards the door.  
You pushed yourself back on your feet. “Are we going?” You asked as you followed him out of the room.  
“We have to stop at my office first.” He strode towards the elevator and pressed the call button.  
“Why?”

“Snow wants to see you.” He said, tapping the huff and puff pack on the back of his hand.  
“Oh.” You exclaimed as you looked in front of you for a second, just to turn back towards him. “Am I in trouble?” you asked as you followed him inside the elevator.  
He lit a cigarette. “Well, that’s a pretty easy guess.”  
The elevator doors closed again, and he eyed you in the corner of his eye. “Besides, I doubt she’ll let you come with me walking around New York barefoot.”  
You softly moved the fingers of your feet against the elevator floor. “Fair enough.”

You followed Bigby out of the elevator and inside his office: as soon as the door closed behind you, Snow turned around and greeted you.  
“Good. You’re here.” She shoved the magic-detecting ring in Bigby’s hand, along with a couple of signed documents. “Try not to tell Crane until you’ve proof she’s innocent.”  
“Snow White slipping a rule like this? Never thought I would have seen the day.” He joked, and Snow was as likely to smile as she was to strangle the sheriff right then and there.

“Take these.” she handed you a pile of neatly folded Mundy clothes. “Boy Blue’s old clothes. I hope they fit.”  
Your smile widened as you accepted them. “Thank you so much. I won’t let you down.”  
“I really hope so.” Her reassuring smile betrayed her worry, but you decided to ignore it.  
You quickly skimmed the room to look for a place to change, but soon realized it was literally just a room with a desk.  
You decided to just change quickly next to the desk, but you caught Bigby’s gaze lingering on you.

“Bigby? Would you mind?”  
He widened his eyes for half a second before realizing. “Sorry.” You couldn’t help but smile as you saw the big bad wolf’s cheeks slightly blush as he turned around, looking away from the desk.

The clothes weren’t great, but they served the purpose: the sweater was tight in some places, clearly intended for a boy to wear it, the jeans instead fit well enough, stopping at the height of your ankles, short dark socks and blue sneakers a couple of sizes too large, but comfortable nonetheless.

“Guess I’m good.”  
As soon as you said that, Snow turned around and moved towards you. “I can’t let you walk around without a warranty.” You just now noticed the dusty, ancient looking box sitting on top of Bigby’s desk: Snow opened it, delicately taking out a gold engraved open armlet.  
“It will prevent you from attacking any of us.”  
Bigby took a step closer to her “Snow-“ She immediately snapped towards him before he could continue. “I have allowed you this much, sheriff. You know I must do this at the very least.”  
“I-it’s fine.” You mumble, raising the sleeve of your sweater. “It won’t be that bad, right?”  
Bigby gave you a worried glance as you extended your forearm towards Snow, but did nothing to stop you.

Your skin prickled as soon as Snow started nearing the bracelet to you: you hissed as the metal made contact with your skin, giving you the feeling it would have left a bruise behind.  
“I’m sorry, but it’s a necessary precaution.”  
“Precaution my ass- it hurts like a bitch-“ you muttered through gritted it, as you saw it closing on your wrist and enveloping it completely, the point of junction between the two halves shone with a blue glint before disappearing, making the bracelet look like it was fused in one single piece.

“Only I can open it. If you try to escape-“  
You exhaled deeply “I have the feeling I know the rest.” You tugged your sleeve back on top of it, the stinging sensation still lingering on your skin. It was just an itch for now, but you quickly realized it could have dissolved your arm if someone muttered the wrong words.

“Can we go now?” You impatiently asked Bigby, who simply nodded once and got out of the room, saying goodbye to Snow before being quickly followed by you.

It felt like hours before the taxi arrived to its destination.  
After a quick search, you easily found the apartment door you were looking for.  
The door was closed, but the lock had been broken: as soon as you entered the room you smelt the powerful stench of blood.

There were streaks and splatters adorning the walls and you just had to follow the trail to get to the body laying in the adjacent kitchen.

Bigby sniffed at the air “I don’t think she’s a Fable…” he turned around and ignored your panicked expression. “Do you… see anything? Visions, something…?”  
“No, not really. I don’t really know. I…” you gulped and spurred yourself to go forward, taking a couple shaky steps inside the kitchen and next to the body. “I think I know her.”  
You study her face for a moment: brunette, brown eyes, soft features. You tried to ignore as hard as you could the gash opening her throat from ear to ear, but you soon faltered back. Something flashed in front of your eyes when you closed them shut, but you couldn’t tell whether you were about to have a vision or faint. You massage your temples with one hand while getting out of the kitchen, scanning the living room for any sort of clue. “I’ve got this terrible thoughts… I always feel like I know these people, but I can’t… remember…”

 _What links this…_ You look back at the kitchen for half a second, looking then around the room. _What is the piece that links me and these deaths?_

You scanned the various candles and trinkets laying on the shelves in the part in the shadow of the living room. A simple thought crossed your mind. “You said banshees are considered spirits, right?” Bigby hummed positively in response.  
“Do wizards exist? Among the… how do you call them- humans?” “Mundies?” ”That one.”  
He almost shrugged as he kept looking around, his brows furrowing lightly as he thought. “The true ones are very rare… as far as I know.”  
“But they do exist, right?”  
“What’s your point?”  
“What if they’re mages? What if this has nothing to do with fables?”  
“I don’t know kid.” Bigby mumbled, staring at a point on the ground and sniffing the air. He knelt down and picked something up: when you looked closer, you realized it was a small lump of hay straws.  
When he spoke again, it was in a deep, worried tone. “I’ve got the feeling that this thing, whatever it is, has only just begun.”


	7. the Ice Cold Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aka I don't know how to title things again.  
> Sorry if there are any spelling mistakes - I'm too tired to triple check xD
> 
> Also I just realized this murder scene -> Woodlands -> murder scene -> Woodlands repeats itself for quite a while. That's simply because this is Uninteresting and I didn't want to plan things out ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Stay in school, kids. That's where the good stories scribbled during boring Geography lessons are born.

Silence filled the cab while the two of you came back from the murder scene. You didn’t move for the whole trip, looking in front of you and going over and over all the information you had discovered, thinking about twisted conspiracies and crude badly executed rituals, always ending this trains of thoughts with as many answers as when you had started. Bigby just looked out of the window, lost in thought just as much as you were.  
By the time you had come back to the Woodlands, the shadows had set on the city of New York, and the word you were a banshee had already spread in the hallways and corridors: not a fable inside the main floor failed to notice you as you strolled after Bigby.

You stayed behind as he went to meet Snow again inside the big mayor office: you had had enough of people demanding answers from you.  
You had spent most of your time in the Woodlands inside apartments: you needed to get out, even for just ten minutes.  
You tried to find a safe place to relax, but after seeing every person you came across staring at you up and down from afar or avoiding you, you decided sitting on the stairs between some of the upper floors would have been your best choice.  
You weren’t sure spending time alone would have done you any well in the long run, but you knew all too well that you hadn’t many other options at your disposal.

Snippets of memories were slowly coming back; it would have been a matter of weeks - maybe even days - before you would have been able to recall your past.  
You touch again the spot on your forehead that felt bruised from the first moment you woke up, as if something had hit you: by this time, you had understood that if something had made you lose your memory, magic was probably the culprit. Yet your skin was still sore once your fingertips touched it.

“Hi.”

Your eyes snapped up to see a man carrying a bucket and a mop. He was wearing a bright orange work suit, his freckly face masked by long thick ginger locks, erupting from underneath a green hat with two bulbous eyes attached to the sides of it.  
He started cleaning the floor before taking a double take at you and asking: “Are you alright?”  
You furrowed your brow and nodded towards the stranger, taking in a deep breath and scooting your legs closer to your chest, wrapping your arms around them.  
“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

The man didn’t move from his position, seemingly waiting for you to go on.  
“They call me Flycatcher.” He said before he paused again, waiting for you to say something. “Harmony. I’m new. Nice to meet you.” He softly smiled at your sheepishness, and resumed the cleaning. “You look a bit down. What happened?”  
You couldn’t help but reflexively exhale deeply. “People say I did bad things I don’t remember doing. And yet I know they’re right… and…” You furrowed again your brow and quickly shook your head, pressing your lips in a tight line. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

He raised his head and smiled at you again. “Time might tell.”  
“Time might be right.” You replied in the same tone.

“You’re one of Bigby’s friends?” You asked, now that you had understood that this fable either didn’t know or didn’t care about the rumors regarding you.  
Flycatcher almost chuckled to himself at the idea, then bitterly added “The sheriff doesn’t have friends.”  
You lean back against the stairs. “Must feel lonely.”

It was so strange, seeing Bigby in a human form after you had partially remembered about the Homelands. Neither him nor how the world reacted to him seemed to have particularly changed, the only thing that he left behind was his hide.  
It was like looking through a twisted mirror; no matter how much time had passed between the Adversary’s ascension and now, nobody had forgotten how much havoc the Big Bad Wolf could bring alongside himself.

You snap out of your thoughts when Flycatcher speaks again. “See you around, Harmony!” He exclaims as he moves one flight upwards with his trusty mop and sloshing water bucket.

When you finally mustered enough energies to head back downstairs again, you did it without raising your gaze, moving silently in the hallways of the Woodlands.  
Just as you were about to turn the corner towards the main mayor office, you felt a hand grabbing your shoulder.

“Snow?” she gestured you to stay silent by pressing a finger against her lips, and almost pulled you towards another corridor and back towards the elevator just as you heard the footsteps of men approaching the office.

“Crane is back.” She worriedly whispered to you as she reached for the elevator button.  
“Bad thing?” Snow turned her gaze towards you, the worried frown on her face speaking a million words.  
“Bad thing.” You murmured lower as you waited for the doors to ding open. You got inside the elevator and Snow quickly pressed one of the buttons, almost breathing out in relief when the doors closed again.

“Try not to get seen by him. Or Bluebeard. Or- well, most of the others…” She said, massaging her forehead with one hand. “I know it might be tough for you, but try to get your head off things. Stay inside. Don’t talk to people.”  
“I’ll try.” You murmured back without looking at her.  
You silently waited for the buzzing noise of the elevator to come to a stop before speaking again.  
“Thank you, Snow. I’m really grateful Beast brought me to you and Bigby.”  
She smiled at you, but there was a slight twitch on her face when she turned away. “I just wish it was easier. Nobody here really forgets. Or forgives, for that matter.”

She accompanied you down the hallway as she fetched a ring of keys from her pocket. She opened a door towards a wide open space living room, much bigger than what it looked like from the outside.  
Your eyes widened as you took in the surroundings, following her inside the apartment.

“You can stay here until this mess is solved. At least I have a couch you can crush on.”  
Given your size, you didn’t really mind Bigby’s chair too, but smelling actual A/C filtered air and not Colin’s body smell was quickly proving to be a much needed improvement.

“Help yourself to the food, if you want. There are clean towels in the bathroom and a couple of blankets laying around the apartment.”  
“Thank you. I know the whole situation is weighing on you.”  
“It is my pleasure.” She gave you a lopsided smile before heading back to the door. “I’ll need to get back downstairs. Those two are going to drive me insane.”

“Good luck.” You mumble as the door closed.

\---

Hours had passed as you had tried to follow Snow’s advice and take it easy; no tv show, movie or book was able to distract yourself long enough though, and in the end you simply decided to give up and do something else.  
After a warm shower and the realization spirits needed food just like mundies, you prepared yourself a small meal of chicken, cooked vegetables and rice, eating slowly and silently at the kitchen counter that let you look over the whole living room.

You still had your mundy clothes on, being the only ones you possessed, but preferred walking around the room barefoot, dangling your feet from the tall chair you were sitting on as you kept eating.

 

The door creaked open, and you heard footsteps approaching.  
“Hello again Snow-“ you looked up when you noticed a second pair of footsteps entering the room. “Bigby! Nice seeing you again.”  
Snow closed the door again while Bigby approached you, easily noticing the dark circles around your eyes.  
“Did you even sleep?”  
“Did _you_ even sleep?” You asked as you kept eating, and the wolf couldn’t help but snort and smile as he shook his head. “I see you’re holding up alright.”  
“I’m doing my best.” You mumble as you lower your eyes back to the food, taking a moment to silently clear your throat and hold back the tears that had begun forming at the edges of your eyes.

“Tell me you have something.” Snow worriedly asked to the sheriff.  
“It’s not someone from here. I’d recognize the smell. But I’ve met him before.”  
“From the Homelands? Could the Adversary be on our trail?”  
“He never gave any signs of wanting to show himself out here. You might want to double-check with Cindy, if you want to be sure. But it wouldn’t make much sense. Why target mundies?”  
“We never understood much of his motives.”  
“It doesn’t sound right to me, Snow.”  
“Well, something _must_ sound right. I don’t know how much time we have left before Crane starts nosing in.”  
“Likely not much.”

You easily got lost from their discussion as they mostly went back to fighting with each other rather than examining the situation.

Looking around, you see framed pictures scattered throughout the whole apartment: some were of Snow, some portrayed a red-haired girl along her whose face had been scrapped off the picture.  
Then there was a collection of smaller ones you hadn’t immediately noticed: small bits of everyday life of Fabletown. As far as you could tell, they tried to cheer the fables up whenever they could: people were always smiling when they were around Snow. Some of the photos looked really old, but one in particular seemed to catch your attention: it was tiny, surrounded by way more colorful ones. Snow and some other fables you didn’t particularly recognize in the middle of a snowball fight, Bigby almost caught in the crossfire in the distance.

The more you looked at it, and the more you seemed to focus on the elements inside of it, your eyes moving between the bared branches of the trees and the snow littering the ground, creaking under the weight of steps. Bigby and Snow, and the other fables running, and screaming.

Something tugs at the back of your mind- more and more and more insistently.  
You keep phasing out until the point you’re not able to keep your balance anymore, falling in the void beneath you once more.

 

_You had been on the run for days, never stopping, never taking a moment of rest._

_You needed to find him. That was the only reason that kept you going. Just hearing his voice again amidst all this madness would have been a blessing._

_The problem with finding the greatest villain of the whole Homelands was that he was hard to find by nature, even more so during war times. After spending days in the woods, you had finally found a track that didn’t seem to be too cold, but was still very far from giving you any kind of certainties._

_It was your only hope. You figured it wasn’t the time to be picky._

_Astra had followed you. Of course she had: red haired and tiny, she still was very young, too young to know about the dangers of the world. When the Adversary rose to power and the Hunt was unleashed, all you could really do was cluster together with your sisters, keep in small groups, move quickly and silently._

_You were dozens when it all started, then broke into smaller groups. Then twenty, then ten, then six, until it was only you and Astra._

_You kept moving in the snow, sores and blisters covering the soles of your feet: you had lost the energies to float around days prior, and you knew the situation would only get worse.  
There was just so much your body could take, and your breaking point was getting closer and closer with each single step you took._

_Astra had become mute by now, and even your voice had begun fading away. You could still feel her following you, her hands still grabbing your locks, trembling, as if you were the last thing she could hold on to for dear life._

_You inhaled sharply in the winter air, the skin on your cheeks and lips completely dry and cracking. You clutched your deep red robes tighter to your chest with trembling fingers, keeping on tracking the wolf.  
His paw prints had become clearer and clearer in the fresh snow, until you finally spotted a dark maned shadow in the distance.  
Your breathing quickened as you forced yourself to pace a tad faster towards his direction: luckily he wasn’t moving, else he would have been long gone before he could have even spotted you.  
As you approached, it was clear he was talking with a woman in the midst of the woods. Her hair was the same color of the night, lips as red as blood, skin as white as snow._

_“B-bigby-“ You murmured, your knees buckling underneath you as you were forced to kneel on the snowy forest soil.  
It was barely a murmur, but you saw the wolf’s ear twitch in your direction before his whole head shifted from the woman towards you: his eyes widened in worry and in a couple of strides he was already in front of you._

_“Banshee—“ “You’re such a sight for these sore eyes, old friend.” You smiled, placing a hand on his muzzle, your voice fading in and out with each word.  
He pushed his nose closer, having you almost hug him. “You’re- dying. I need to get you out of here.”  
His eyes shot towards your red-haired friend, who had knelt next to you and lowered her head in the meantime; you replied before he could ask._

_“She’s Astra. She’s my sister.” He raised his head again and took a deep breath near you, taking in the smell of your scent. “We were more… then the Hunt caught up on us-“ your voice broke again, and this time he shushed you._

_“We’re going away. I’ll bring you somewhere safe. You must come with me.”  
Just as he was about to lower to get the two of you on his back, his ears caught on to a very characteristic noise, that soon became audible even to you. There, in the middle of the dead, winter forest, you could hear steps approaching in the distance. Closing in. Boots, then metal, then hooves, all running. Then you heard the drummers beating their horrible rhythm in the distance, and hunting horns blaring as the hounds were unleashed in the woods._

_“They’re coming.” Your head snapped back towards Bigby. “You must run, Wolf. There’s no way of outrunning the Hunt.-“ “No.”  
“Run, _please,_ run. I’d rather be caught and let you live than-“ “ _Banshee, no._ ” the wolf cut you off, lowering his head and slowly pacing towards the direction of the Hunt, shielding you from it.   
“How can you think I’d rather flee than save you?” he mumbled as he prepared himself to face the hoard running before him.  
He tore through the hounds, biting and clawing and ragdolling them against the tree trunks until they laid motionless on the ground.  
When the men arrived, they soon surrounded him, running towards you and your sister._

_You clawed at them with the last energies left, but two of them still managed to grab Astra by her hair and drag her away from you._

_You crawled away and Bigby managed to free himself from the other attackers long enough to bite chunks out of your pursuers, but more were soon to come.  
You tried flying above ground, so weak you could barely float, but you managed by almost digging in the air, swimming upwards in a last attempt to flee.  
The men screamed below you. A net clashed against your body, its rings made of pure gold already stained with someone else’s blood, wrapping around you in an icy embrace and dragging you back to the cold hard ground, thudding against the snow, which immediately burnt against your already frostbitten skin._

_Your eyes darted around, but as starved as you were, you could barely make sense of all the movement in front of you.  
Your fingers clung to the gold rings of the net, pushing it slightly above your body so you could sit and look for your sister.  
She was desperately trying to escape as well, almost with your same results.  
“Astra!!” You screamed with the last bit of your voice when you saw a cluster of men forming underneath her. They used long hooked sticks to pierce her flesh and drag her to the ground. She tried to claw them, successfully gouging the eyes out of one of them, but she could only shriek in pain when they started beating her relentlessly. Soon you could see the life had abandoned her body, and the men kept beating her corpse for fear she would wake up again._

_Hot tears welled up in your eyes as you saw your last sister laying dead on the ground. When you felt someone grabbing the net from behind and dragging you in a sitting position, you instinctually spun around and clawed his face, and chest, and arms, wailing with the last of your voice.  
But cloth and straw don’t bleed, and cold undead hands grabbed your hair and knocked your head against the tree trunk._

_You felt the same dead wooden hands grabbing the back of the net and dragging you away from the battleground. Bigby was being surrounded by the other men, but when he saw you being dragged away he charged through and leapt above them._

_Hooves clashed against the icy ground as the cavalry came rushing in: two silver plated knights on horses circled around the wolf, attacking him and separating the two of you again.  
A horrible whine rasped in his throat when silvered spears dug deep in his sides. “Bigby!!” You tried to scream, but your voice had gone silent._

_Tears welled up in your eyes, the pain caused by your skin coming in contact with the gold becoming more and more faint as you felt your consciousness give in.  
You caught the glimpse of a bright purple spell as your captor was muttering the words to cast a teleportation circle._

_Bigby gnawed at one of the horse’s legs, trapping the knight underneath it when it inevitably fell. As the second knight charged in for another attack, the wolf closed his jaws around his upper body, his gums and skin fizzling against the silver. He shook his head and threw the knight against another tree, charging then towards you. Blood was streaming at the sides of his mouth, tinting the snow in crimson as it fell on the ground._

_The spell circle completed itself around you, just as Bigby was about to snap his jaws around the scarecrow’s head- everything went blank for an instant.  
Darkness then surrounded you.  
Hot tears trailed down your cheeks as you stared at that image still lingering in the back of your pupils.  
The net was released from your body, just as a golden collar closed around your neck._

_“Follow me, my dear. There’s lots of things you have to do.”_

_As you turned back towards the voice, you saw the landscape shifting completely; New York, but this time in another crowded street and again, another apartment and another door. The same man with wooden hands getting inside the main entrance door of the block of apartments._

_He glanced back once before moving towards a particular door, his set of wooden fingers wrapping around the handle of a knife._

You snapped back to reality, feeling warm strong hands grabbing your now ice cold ones.

You were laying on the floor of Snow’s apartment, just next to where you were sitting. “Bigby-”  
“Jesus Christ-“ He took a moment to help you sit up before speaking again. “You blacked out. What’s going on?”  
You fought back nausea and closed your eyes, focusing. “Another vision- the murderer- someone else-“  
He grabbed you by your shoulders, probably trying to calm you down but doing a fairly bad job at it. “Do you know where that is?”  
You nodded shakily.

When he helped you up to your feet and headed towards the door, Snow spoke again. “She should stay here.” She said while she exhaled deeply, too tired to go over this one particular argument again today.

“If this Crane is on to us anyway, I don’t really see the point.” You said as you looked back towards her. “I’m sorry, Snow. But I need to do this.”


End file.
